


Trapped

by empyreanTempest



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: AU in which Randall doesn't ''''die'''' because Hershel pees himself, Gen, No Plot/Plotless, Omorashi, Urination, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:33:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3536393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empyreanTempest/pseuds/empyreanTempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While exploring the Akbadain ruins, Hershel and Randall find themselves trapped in a small space for awhile.</p><p>Based off a prompt from OTPee prompts</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped

They had been so careful, but the terrain was just too unpredictable. Just one misstep was all it took to bring a great chunk of the ceiling down behind them, trapping them in a narrow corridor.

Randall, being the more intrepid of the two, immediately leapt forward to scout the area in front of them. Hershel was left to contemplate the situation, and he moved to lean against the boulder.

Soon enough, Randall returned, but his sour expression said it all before he had a chance to. "Looks like a dead end," he muttered, flopping back against the rock. "Just our luck, eh? We made it this far only for a stupid rock to get in the way."

Hershel slowly dropped to the floor, and Randall followed behind him. He did his best to stay calm, but fear was beginning to rise in the back of his throat. "I was going to tell you to stop," he said softly. "But I really was having fun." He just gazed off into space. Without the light of the crystals, the corridor was just about pitch black.

"Well, we could still have fun, right? We brought food and water... And Henry and Angela will notice we're gone and come searching for us!"

Then Hershel remembered the water. The water that he had been generously partaking of. The water that he had nearly finished in the past hour or so that they had been exploring. The tea he had drank that morning as a quick stimulant before leaving. Quietly, he moved his hands between his legs, hoping Randall wouldn't notice.

"So, what do you say? It's about time we had lunch anyway, right?"

"Sure. Of course." Hershel did his best to make his voice sound as strong as his friend's.

So Randall hefted his backpack into the ground in front of him and set to  digging through it. He passed a couple of tins to Hershel. "I can't really see what these are at the moment, but I'm pretty sure it's food."

Hershel found the pull-tab on the can and lifted it, wondering to himself why they didn't simply use their lanterns.

 

It didn't take too long for the two to finish off their provisions. The air of adventure and excitement had somewhat worn away when they became inextricably trapped and so there was not much talking between bites. That was not to mention the fact that Hershel was nursing a full bladder in between trying to keep up appearances in front of Randall. The food was saltier than he had expected, leading him to need to take deeper gulps of water than he had before, despite the firm protest in his lower body. Once he had finished, his hands returned to the spot between his legs, pressing firmly as if more pressure would relieve the sting of fullness.

Randall didn't seem to notice that anything was amiss, sitting quietly and apparently pondering the situation. Eventually he stood, stretching briefly before heading deeper into the darkness.

"Where are you going?" Hershel called after him.

"Ah, sorry, Hershel... I just really need a wee."

Hershel stiffened at the word. "N... Now? Here?"

"Yeah. Well, I'm going further away for a reason."

Regardless, Hershel could still hear him clearly; it felt like it was louder than when Randall was right next to him. There was the sound of a belt buckle tinkling against itself, the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and the sound of rustling fabric. Hershel held his breath and squeezed his legs tightly together, forcing his hands further against himself and eliciting another protesting sting from his overtaxed bladder.

Finally came the sound of liquid splattering against stone along with a barely-stifled moan of relief. Hershel drew in a sharp breath and held it, pressing himself back against the boulder as if he would melt right through it. No matter how hard he tried, the hissing of Randall's stream reached his ears all too well, and his body desperately tried to give in and relieve the building pressure as well.

He swallowed hard as he heard the stream devolve to staccato bursts before ending completely. Now his mind seemed perfectly content to drown out noises--he barely heard Randall putting himself away and walking back--but only in favor of focusing completely on how badly he needed to go. His body screamed for release and he felt a warm drop or two find its way into his underwear, spreading quickly against the fabric.

That was when Randall finally decided to use his lantern. The sudden illumination only made Hershel lose control that much longer, a full spurt moistening the front of his trousers before he caught himself.

"What's wrong?" Randall asked. "I was trying to tell you something."

It was a moment before Hershel found his voice again, and when he did, it was strained. "What?" The sound of his own voice made him wince. "What is it?"

"I think I found something. Looks like a door. Maybe we can get out of here ourselves!" Randall's expression dropped. "Hey, are you really all right? It looks like you've been crying."

Perhaps he had been. Hershel could barely register any feeling outside of the pressure in his lower body. He wouldn't be surprised if he had begun to cry in his exertion.

"Randall," he said, as evenly as he could manage. "I... I need the toilet."

There was a beat, then Randall laughed. "Is that all? Just go then! No one's looking!"

Hershel whined despite himself. "That's so... filthy. To... urinate... all over an ancient ruin..."

"Hershel, come on. This is no time for prudery. Besides, there's no one on earth who loves the Azran as much as I do, and I did it!"

Hershel only managed a quiet groan in response.

"Listen, it's practically bare earth over there. No one will even know. And pissing on ancient ruins is better than pissing your pants, isn't it?"

"P... Please. Don't say that word." Hershel fidgeted uncomfortably. He could feel a flood just barely held back by his urinary sphincter, and his muscles were all but ready to give out.

Randall sighed. "Well, do whatever you want, then. I'm going to try to solve that door's puzzle." With that, he was off, taking the warm glow of his lantern with him and leaving Hershel to desperately writhe and fight his bodily functions.

By now, the sting in his lower body was a steady, dull ache. He had finally given in and started crying, both from embarrassment and pain. Further away, he could hear Randall fiddling with some sort of ancient mechanism. He did his best to focus on that instead of his desperation, closing his eyes and imagining what sort of lock the Azran had devised for this door. Slowly he began to relax, his hands moving away from his groin and his back easing against the curve of the stone behind him.

He very soon regretted going to such lengths to relax, however, when he felt warmth spreading between his legs and over the seat of his trousers. He gave a short cry and tensed every muscle in his body in an attempt to stop the stream, but only succeeded in slowing it to a trickle.

"Hershel?" He heard Randall call. "Are you okay? I heard a noise."

Hershel gave a soft sob. "I'm sorry, Randall," he said in a shivering voice. "I couldn't... couldn't hold it anymore!"

With that, he finally let go, allowing the torrent of urine to flow freely through his clothes, wetting the cracked stone tile beneath him. It wasn't long before he was sitting in a rather impressive puddle, his stream still going strong. At this point, he felt like he didn't deserve to take his trousers off. This was his fault, he waited too long and drank too much and let Randall go through with this ridiculous expedition, and now he was pissing himself like a child, all alone in the dark.

Waiting for his bladder to void normally felt like it was taking too long, though, and so Hershel bore down on his muscles, forcing the liquid out faster. Looking down, he could see a distinct stream bursting out from his over-saturated pants, and the hiss was loud enough that he was positive Randall could hear it just as well as he had heard his.

As it happened, Randall had made his way back over to the curled-up form of his friend not long after Hershel had finally given in. As Hershel's stream slowly died away, he finally looked up and noticed his friend standing there. Before Randall had a chance to say anything, Hershel was sobbing again, hiding his face in his hands. "Randall, I'm so sorry," he choked. "I didn't--I couldn't--I p, pissed myself, like you said!"

Randall's voice was halting. "Don't... Don't worry about that now. I solved the puzzle, all right? So we're free."

Hershel stared up at him for a moment, trying to connect the words to a meaning in his head.

"We can go, okay?" He picked his backpack up, holding it at arm's length when it dripped. "We can still get to the final chamber."

Hershel stood, ignoring the subtle splashing noise as he disturbed his puddle. "Randall," he began, his voice finally even but very small. "I would really like to go home now."

Randall opened his mouth to protest, but Hershel interrupted. "Please."

Randall sighed, but shrugged and hefted his dripping backpack onto his back. "I guess I don't blame you," he said. "Let's get you home and out of those wet trousers, all right?"

Hershel simply nodded.


End file.
